


Thrashless: The Tale of Young Prodigy Hank Smithson and the Metalhead

by Smittero



Category: Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: Comedy, Cult, Funny, Gen, Guitars, Humor, Metallica References, Music, Random - Freeform, This Is STUPID, Thrash, chapters, metalhead - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smittero/pseuds/Smittero
Summary: Hank Smithson has been a devout follower of Metallica for as long as he can remember.  Everyday he devotes to studying their teachings and living as a true disciple.  His life long dream is to be initiated and become one with the Metallica family.  Everybody who has ever met him knows he possesses great skill; such a devoted and hard working student had never been seen before.  But now, the boy has been summoned.  All of his devotion has led him on the path to begin this journey, to discover his true potential.  However,  what the boy is not aware of is the true power that he possesses, and that there may be many on the hunt for him, Hank Smithson.(P.S. If you came here looking for a serious, gripping, emotional story, you're gonna be sorely disappointed.)





	1. The Initiation

Hank Smithson had been a disciple in the cult of Metallica since he was a young child. As the years passed, he had grown accustomed to hearing a whisper here and there about his own initiation. Most of his fellow brothers and sisters did not find Metallica until their late teens. He was the only exception, as far as he knew. No one knew when the time would come for him to be fully initiated. 

While he heard gossip of some sort of initiation, he would always at least try to ask about the circumstances of such a thing. Upon asking, he would only receive a pitying look and a response of “Patience, my brother.” 

On his 16th birthday, he was summoned to the Grand Hall. The High One, James Hetfield himself had asked for a personal audience with him. An honor most, even some of the oldest members, did not get. 

The room stilled as he entered. He felt a sudden rush of shame, feeling as though he had done something wrong. No one had told him of any specific formalities when greeting The High One’s council. Should he bow? Should he have brought gifts? His thoughts seemed to run a mile a minute, when finally, James stood. 

His face flushed before the tall figure. Power seemed to radiate from the man in his tendrils, filling the room with a sort of buzz. He hadn't even spoken yet, and Hank knew that whatever would happen here would change his fate forever. 

The High One stepped towards him. Hank was intimidated, fighting the urge to take a step back. When the taller man finally reached him, they stood so close that Hank could feel the other man's breath on his face. 

“My son,” he uttered in a low voice, and extended a hand to grasp the younger man’s shoulder. 

Hank lowered his head in a sort of bow, before raising his head quickly again. He didn't want to take his eyes off of The High One for even a second. He licked his lips, his mouth feeling impossibly dry. He had never been more nervous in his life. 

“High One,” he mustered, finding the courage to speak. “I…”

“You are wondering about why we have summoned you, yes?” The High One turned, a playful smile spreading across his face. 

Hank blinked. “How did you…?”

“Surely you must have deduced by now.” The High One responded. “I am sure you've heard talk of a sort of...initiation?” 

The young man's blood turned to ice. Now? Now was the time? He wasn't prepared. Surely there must have been some mistake, how could they see him as worthy, when he was still so young? 

“High One, there must be a mistake. I- I am not yet worthy-” 

The high one turned sharply, fixing his stern gaze on Smith. “You are more than worthy. I have watched you for some time now. You show more devotion than half of the whole damn convent!” 

Hank was shook. He didn’t know what to say. He had spent almost his whole life in complete devotion. He had always strived to thrash the hardest during their daily prayers, to jam the loudest in their religious studies. He felt that all of it, every single ounce of devotion, had led up to this moment. 

“You understand now, don’t you?” James said through the fog of his thoughts, startling him a bit. “Come. Your destiny awaits you.” 

He nodded, and began to follow his leader through a long corridor. With every step, he began to grow more confident in whatever trials that might await him. They walked for what seemed like only seconds, until reaching a set of golden doors. 

Hank took in the polished fine metal, not knowing if this were to be the first and last time he was ever going to get to see them. The High One took a large key that hung around his neck off, and proceeded to plunge it into the lock.

The doors shook as the tumbles loosened and the doors slowly swung open. Hank shifted his neck slightly, trying to get a better view of the room beyond the door. His eyes widened at what he saw. 

In the center of a small, windowless chamber lit with torches was a pillar. Atop the pillar was a satin pillow of a color richer and brighter than anything he had seen within the walls of the convent. Laying on the pillow was…

“Is that-” he began.

“Yes.” James said, picking up the large steel butt plug. “It is a relic, known as the Metal Head. It is older than the walls of our convent.” 

Immediately, Hank Smithson was full of fear and dread. Every step he took deeper into the chamber, the walls radiated brighter. He felt as though his legs were moving on their own, like the relic called to him, forcing him to proceed.

“Go forth young one,” James proclaimed. “After this, your initiation will be complete, and you will finally be able to dine with your brothers and sisters of Metallica.”

Hank crept closer to the pillar, feeling its strong aura. Never before has such a powerful presence been forced upon him. His feet reached the edge of the pillar. He was face to face with the most valuable metal artifact mankind has ever created. He wiped his watering eyes, for they had never witnessed a spectacle such as this before.

Hank started to reach for the possession. His arms were trembling. He didn’t want to taint such a precious object by mishandling it. Mustering up the courage inside of him, he managed to raise his arms level with the relic. He was now ready.

Hank Smithson grabbed the relic.

James Hetfield observed from the side wall of the chamber, “What you have in your hands is the foundation that holds this community together. Proceed, and you will become one with us all. Your destiny awaits.”

Hank began to position himself. He was inexperienced in such an art, but he hoped his will, devotion, and determination would help him to persevere. His membership hung in the balance of this one task. His life’s work, all led up to this moment. He assumed the stance that James had demonstrated with graceful skill.

But suddenly, a faint ringing could be heard in the chamber. 

The ringing began to turn into a loud siren, blistering his ears and sending him into an immediate panic. He had no idea what the siren meant. Was this part of the initiation? Was this a test of his decibelic capabilities? Is this how loud he was expected to thrash?

But then, as soon as James heard the ringing, he quickly slid open the chamber doors. He rushed to Hank, pulling his petrified body away from the pillar with a strength so great that Hank dropped the artifact to the ground, emitting a great thud, yet silenced by the alarm. They evacuated the chamber and ran down the long corridors. 

“What’s happening high one?! What does that alarm mean?!” Hank shouted in a fury.

James boomed, “That’s the sound of a breach in our defenses! Hurry young one, for your initiation will have to wait!”

Suddenly, they could hear fellow members of the cult shouting in a wild cacophony, “Intruder! Lock the doors! Arm your axes!”

James stopped to formulate his next course of action. The initiation he had taken careful planning and consideration towards had now been ruined by this intrusion.

Speaking to the now frightened young apprentice, James Hetfield said, “Come Hank. You must take shelter. I smell Deth in the air…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen in chapter 2? Will James survive? Will Hank be initiated? Will the Metalhead be reclaimed? Will I even write it? Who knows, boyo. Just always stay prepared.


	2. The Intruder

The grand hall was bustling with activity as the cult prepared their defenses. All of the members flooded into the armory to grab their personal weapon of choice. While some may have a more athletic physique or a menacing stature, everyone in the cult had been taught one paramount directive, whenever there are intruders, you kill ‘em all. So these warriors would stop at nothing to eliminate their target, even sacrificing their life if it meant protecting the High One. 

James Hetfield’s mind was racing a mile a second. He knew exactly what he was up against. He could sense it by the eerie temperament surrounding him. The torches around him darkened and turned a violent shade of vermilion. The air danced around him, seemingly taunting him with a devilish snicker. He needed to act fast, for he knew time was running thin.

Then, an idea struck James. He knew exactly where to take the boy. Although Hank had not been initiated, an exception would have to be made.

James hoisted Hank up onto his shoulders with seemingless effort, and sprinted back down the long hallway and made a hard right. There was another set of doors at the end of the corridor, but of a less glamourous appearance, almost as if they were trying to blend in with the walls. James, with added furiosity, turned the handle and proceeded into this secondary chamber. 

There were no torches anywhere. It was impossible to judge the size of the chamber since the walls were covered in complete darkness. The only light source came from the center of the room. A huge pit, roaring with flames around its edges, was the only identifiable feature that could be made out. The sight of this great pit frightened Hank, “What is the purpose of this pit? Why has James taken me here, and is there someone after me?”

All these thoughts rushed through Hank’s mind when suddenly James released him from his grasp. “This is it,” James exclaimed. “This is the ultimate refuge in this facility. It is called the Motorhole.”

Hank couldn’t believe his eyes. He had only heard myths and legends of such a great and powerful hole. Ancient warriors, thrashing it out for the dominance of metal, sparked unrelenting assaults against each other. There was one place all members of Metallica flocked to…the Motorhole. The Motorhole was a place of healing and restoration, for its mighty flames let no one pass except those initiated into the Metallica family. It is said that the hole was crafted from the very bowels of the god of metal himself, Ronnie James Dio. Destined to be claimed by mortals, Dio gave control of the Motorhole to Metallica, recognizing the cult had total devotion to his teachings. From that fateful day, Metallica had always had the upper hand in any conflicts and skirmishes, for it is the all powerful, all protective…Motorhole.

Hank began to perspire. The heat of the Motorhole was too powerful for his virgin skin. Hank started to stutter, “The Mo...the Motorhole...it’s real.”

“Indeed young one,” James replied. “I take it that you have heard the stories. Dio has blessed us with this sacred refuge for our loyalty to his holiness. He imbued the pit with a sacred seal that only lets members of the cult of Metallica enter its walls. However, there is one exception. One that I personally requested of Dio to make. In times of great turmoil and distress, a single word can be uttered that grants anyone passage into its flames. A single word that expresses the foundation of our lyrical content, inspiring us everyday to persevere and continue the hope that metal will always prevail in difficult times.”

James Hetfield began to open his mouth. He let out the one word in a mighty roar, “YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Suddenly the flames ceased their violent performance, and the pit granted safe passage inwards. However, after only a second or two, the flames were restored to their original untamed state, and returned to blocking passage to all outsiders. 

“That’s the word High One...yeah?” Hank said puzzlingly.

“Yeah,” James replied.

Hank was mystified. “What a creative genius the High One is,” Hank thought.

“But remember, after uttering the word you must immediately proceed into the pit or else you will be enraptured in the fumes of wrath. As soon as you enter you will be safe from all outside impurities. I wish I had time to say more but I must tend to my flock. Go on Hank Smithson and…  
JUMP IN THE FIRE!.”

James rushed out of the room and dashed down the long corridor. He had been away from his people far too long. He needed to lead his people, to give them orders to prevent this intruder from escaping. 

He finally made it back into the main hall. He was about to give his formal command when suddenly he was interrupted by a small danish entity, Lars Ulrich.

“Your Riffness sir!” Lars exclaimed. “The people are in disarray over here! It’s fokin mayhem!”

“Is there any sight of the intruder, or have there been any hostile units detected?” James asked urgently.

“None that we know about. In fact, besides the alarm there has been no indication of any intrusion. Maybe it was a false alarm. Maybe it needs a change of battery-”

“You cannot kill the battery!” James interrupted. “I know there’s someone among us. I can sense it. Ready the defenses. Set up lookouts across all barriers.”  
“Yes sir,” Lars responded. “Lookouts, to your posts! Keep your eyes peeled for any suspicious activity!

The lookouts got in their positions. Peering out from above and under the gates, they observed the outside with hyper precision, not letting so much as a plectrum escape their view.

One particular man, the chief of the lookouts, Robert Trujillo, spotted a peculiar object. Just outside of the main gates, he spotted what appeared to be a human skull, one donning several accessories too far away for him to make out clearly.

“I see something out past the central gates.” Robert said. “It appears to be a human skull of some sort. I can’t really make out the details, but it looks like it was planted there by someone.”

“I shall go out there and investigate.” said a voice in the far back of the hall. It was none other than the cult’s most prestigious scout, Kirk Wahmett.

“No Kirk, do not go out there! It is too dangerous! We do not know what this skull is or what it is capable of!” James shouted.

But it was too late. Before anyone even had the chance to dissuade him, he had already made his way out of the main gates and outside of the establishment. The entire cult watched in angst, fearing that he was making a grave mistake.

Kirk walked up to the skull. On further speculation, he had noticed that its mouth was tightly shut with four metal clamps. There was a metal visor over its eyes, and big metal caps with chain pressed over its ears. Kirk was puzzled as to what exactly this meant. Upon examination, it appeared to be of no threat. 

Kirk bent down and picked up the skull. It was much heavier than he had anticipated, being weighed down by the large metal objects encrusted onto its very being. He flipped the skull around, and notice that there was an engraving on the backside of its head. It read…

“See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil”

 

Hank Smithson made his way to the Motorhole. Every step closer, the heat pressed upon him grew. His flesh started to burn. But all of that would go away with one simple word that he only had to utter once.

“YEEEEEAAAAAH!” Hank cried out. Jumping straight into the pit.

However, as the flames dimmed, and the pit’s access opened, something stopped Hank from entering mid jump. He was pulled to the ground by an unknown force. Suddenly he realized that this force was the grasp of a man. He knew by his grip that this was a man who thrashed regularly. He could feel his fingertips gripping his shoulder tightly, making escape impossible. He tried to worm his way out, but even his technique was no match for this being’s.

“Come with me Hank Smithson. There is much work to be done,” muttered…  
Dave Mustaine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen in chapter 3? What does the skull mean? What does Dave want? Where did the Metalhead go that was like the only funny joke in this entire story? Patience my acquaintances...patience.


End file.
